


Father Forgive Me

by BeckyBarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruce would be a good priest, M/M, Priest Kink, Rebel Bucky, Steve has a problem and his name is Bucky, Wet Dream, Wow I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckyBarnes/pseuds/BeckyBarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is a priest and Bucky is a bad,bad boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bible Study

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ballvvasher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballvvasher/gifts).



> So... sorry if this offends anyone. Bucky is of age, if that helps.  
> Posted in a hurry so this is totally un-Beta'd.

Father Steve sat at his desk in the corner of his dimly lit room, jotting down notes for Wednesday night young adults bible study. Admittedly, this was his least favorite activity to get ready for. They were the most reluctant to participate in _any_ conversations; it was like pulling teeth. Last week he assigned them a simple task, and that was to come back with their favorite bible verse. At least this would force them to talk a little. 

He had confided in Father Bruce about his frustrations. Father Bruce was the very epitome of priestly; he was soft spoken, patient and had a servant's heart. He loved working with children and spent his free time at the local children's hospital, bringing books and toys for the sick kids. Steve admired his old fashioned way of teaching, but at times it seemed like he _enjoyed_ making Steve work with the youth group. _"You need to work on your patience, Steven. You're young still. You've got time to grow. Reach out to them."_

Steve dropped his pencil and sighed as he looked at the clock. Who was he kidding? All he had managed to do was write "Fav verses!" with doodles around it. It was 6:45, and bible study started at 7:30. He grabbed his notebook and bible and walked briskly to the church. He lived in a small house two blocks north and one block east. He arrived to the front archway of Saint Michael's only to be greeted by a few students who showed up early. There was Natasha, flanked by her two friends, Clint and James. They were talking animatedly when Father Steve arrived, but quickly became mute when he greeted them.  
"Hey guys!" he was met with a few grumbles of hello and scuffling of feet "you're awfully early. I hope you brought your favorite passages with!" he internally winced at the cheesiness of his tone of voice. He sounded like Father Philip when he tried to work with the middle schoolers.  
"Er, yeah. We did. Or at least I did. Did you, Clint?" replied Natasha, who shot Clint a pointed look.  
"Yes…I…Did…" he said, looking at his fingers, then the sky, then back at his hands. Steve laughed.  
"Alright. You've still got some time. James?"  
" _Bucky_ " shot the boy on the stairs. He had reclined onto the cold concrete steps, the collar of his wool coat turned up against the mid March chill. "and yeah. Got mine." he said as he waved a scrap of paper in the air. His brown hair hung in soft waves around his face, framing the perpetual frown that greeted him every week. Apparently he let it grow out after he graduated high school, because all through the high school level class he had kept it short. Steve found himself wondering why he had filed away that bit of information.  
"Sorry, Bucky. Shall we go in?" He asked as he unlocked the double doors and led them down the hallway, flipping on lights as he walked.

Later on, when the rest of the students had arrived and said their hellos to each other, they sat in folding chairs in a circle. Clint had been scrolling through something on his phone when he suddenly declared he had found his favorite bible verse. Natasha leaned over to read it, then rolled her eyes while trying to suppress a smile.  
"Alright Clint, since you're so excited, would you like to go first?" Asked Father Steve as he settled into his own chair, bible in hand.  
"Yeah! Yeah I'll go first. Do I have to stand up? No, ok I'll stay sitting." He cleared his throat and read from his phone, "Ok, uh, my verse comes from Proverbs, chapter 5, verse 19. ' A lovely deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight; be intoxicated always in her love.'"  
Silence.  
"That's- Thank you Clint, that's very..." huffed Steve as the class dissolved into a fit of giggles.  
"Hey, it's in the bible, you know? Can it be that bad?" Father Steve couldn't help but laugh.  
"Ok, you win this round. Who is next?"  
They read their passages in turn, ranging from Natasha's fire and brimstone verse to the run-of-the-mill John 3:16. Bucky's was by far Steve's favorite of the night, though. He was one of the last to go. He reluctantly pulled his piece of paper out of his pocket when it was his turn.

"Uh, so mine is kinda long, but I liked it so… yeah. Here it is:  
'How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?  
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?  
Look on me and answer, LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death, and my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.' It… it goes on to say some other happier stuff but I really liked this part, I guess." he finished lamely, shrugging and not looking at anyone in particular.

Steve thought back to the first day they had met. Bucky had been coerced by Natasha to go with her and Clint. He came reluctantly, sitting on his own and refusing to join in group discussions. Steve had stopped him on his way out, put a hand on his shoulder and asked if there was anything wrong. Bucky just looked at him sadly for a moment.  
"I don't think you would understand." He muttered, looking away.  
"James, I was a man before I became a priest. I'm sure I will understand." He just looked at the floor. Steve knew when to stop pressing. He clapped his other hand on his other shoulder. "Another time, then. Or you can talk to Father Bruce? He's older and some find him easier to talk to. Don't tell him I said that." Bucky gave him a weary smile.  
"I'll keep that in mind."

Steve couldn't help but wonder if Bucky was still hurting as much as he was the first day they'd met.  
"I like that. Thanks for sharing... it's amazing how such old words can fit today, huh?" Bucky just shrugged again, cheeks slightly pink. That was new. He'd always been reluctant, but never embarrassed or bashful, even when cursing in front of Steve.

Around 8:45 everyone gathered their things, put on their coats and started heading home. Clint and Natasha were helping to put away all of the folded chairs when Bucky approached Father Steve.  
"Do you think I could talk to you alone?"  
"Of course. Right now?"  
"Is right now a bad time?" he asked, chewing his lip.  
"Not at all. We can walk home together if you'd like." Bucky perked up at that.  
"I'd like that a lot." he said, his tone _different_ somehow. He motioned to his friends that he was alright. Natasha gave him a look over her shoulder as they left for the night.  
Steve locked up the church and turned to Bucky.  
"So, talk to me."


	2. Communion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their talk leaves Steve in a wake of conflict- he's only human, after all.

Over the last two years, Bucky had been in and out of trouble (and the police station) and yet he rarely missed bible study or Mass. Confession, however, was another story. Father Steve had always suspected him of skipping out of confessional. Never one to push, he decided to let it go rather than bring it up.  
"So what's on your mind?" Steve asked as they started their walk in the crisp night air. Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged.  
"Just felt like talking, I guess." He mused as he looked up at the sky. It was clear and the stars were bright and cold. A gentle breeze shook the bare branches overhead.

"It seems like something is pressing on your mind," Steve ventured. 

"I don't know. I just- d'ya think I'm a shitty Catholic?" he asked, diving headfirst as always. "I feel like I am. I've been thinking about leaving the church, to be honest." Father Steve's heart sank, though he was unsure why. He would be lying if he denied enjoying his company and occasional ribbing.

"I can't make that decision for you, Bucky. But I would like for you to stay." He tried to sound as sincere and unrehearsed as possible. Bucky seemed to believe him.

"I dunno, Father Steve. I just don't feel like I'm all there. I talked to Father Bruce about it briefly but, you know how he is."

"What did he say?" Bucky made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.  
"He told me to go to confession. And well, you've probably noticed, but I'm not a fan." 

"You know it's totally confidential-" Bucky stopped walking and gave him a very blank stare. "What?"

" _Father Steve_ ," he said flatly "It's a small town. You're gonna know it's me." 

Steve laughed, his breath forming a small cloud in front of his hansom face. He reached out and squeezed both of his shoulders, mirroring the first day they had met. He looked deep into his troubled grey-blue eyes and spoke softly but firmly.  
"Nothing you can say will make me turn away from you. God won't turn away. You're not alone." He bit his lip and looked away.

"I...Ok." he sighed, still not making eye contact. "I'm gay. And it's..." he didn't continue. Father Steve squeezed his shoulders again.

"Hey, look at me. There's nothing-"  
"It's wrong, isn't it? Don't you think that's _wrong?_ " Worry lines had formed on his forehead. His hands were now balled at his sides, clenching and unclenching methodically.

"Well, Pope Francis said-"

"I don't care what God or the fucking Pope said. I want to know what YOU think" he interjected, raising his voice slightly. "I'm talking to you. Not God, not Father Bruce, and certainly not the Pope. I want to know what you think." Steve's stomach fluttered. His defiance was charming, to say the least. He would surely miss this if he did leave.

"I don't care, Bucky. Never have." He paused, gauging his reaction. "Do you remember what I told you when we met? I am only a man," he said carefully, "and I understand your struggle wholly."

Bucky just stared at him, searching his face, looking into his eyes then to his lips, over his shoulder then finally met Steve's eyes again. "Oh. _Oh_ " Steve offered him the warmest smile he could and Bucky returned it tenfold. The corners of his eyes crinkled into the biggest grin he'd seen to date. He'd never seen so many of Bucky's teeth at once; it warmed Steve's chest to think he put that smile on his face. "Thank you, Father Steve. Should we keep walking? I'm getting cold."

 

They walked a few more blocks together, talking about nothing in particular, then said their goodbyes as they split in separate directions. Bucky's usual demeanor came back, and by the end of their walk, he was swearing and carrying on about his hatred of his job. As Steve walked up the steps to his house, Bucky's parting words burned in his memory. _"It's a shame you're a priest. You're quite a catch."_ Then he even had the audacity to wink as he turned on his heel and left before Steve could respond.

Steve undressed, threw his clothes into the laundry and took a long shower. As he lathered up his hair, he thought about what Bucky had said. Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach when he realized he had been flirting with Steve. He looked down in horror as his body reacted with enthusiasm. He turned the shower cold and ignored it, face burning in shame. He felt guilty, as if he had broken some sort of rule by having a heart to heart with Bucky. But the look on his face had been so relieved and pure that he couldn't help but feel compassion towards him. That night he crawled into bed, set his alarm, and fell into a fitful sleep. 

Over the next few days, he kept himself busy by studying with Father Phillip and meandering around the church. Father Bruce had noticed he looked distracted and Steve brushed it off as nonsense. He needed to clear his head before Communion, so he went to bed early after a lengthy prayer session.

…That proved futile. He awoke shortly after 3 AM, sweaty and harder than he'd been in ages. He dreamt of Bucky kneeling in front of him, naked and covered in oil, clutching Steve's robes and begging for forgiveness. Then he was kneeling too, reaching out to touch his face, but as he did, he woke with a start. He subconsciously blamed Father Phillip for reading a passage about "anointing thy head with oil" as he made a beeline for the shower. He begrudgingly took care of himself, lasting only moments before he was bracing himself against the wall, watching the evidence wash down the drain. He toweled off and went back to sleep, trying fruitlessly to stamp out the image of a slick and desperate Bucky.

Naturally, he felt so _wrong_ leading communion. Suddenly his robes felt too big, like he was swimming in them as all eyes turned to him. The line formed as his hands grew sweaty around the paten. Body of Christ after Body of Christ droned from his lips, accompanied by the mumbles of "amen" and the shuffling of feet. He nearly crushed the Eucharist when he saw Bucky, last in line.

Bucky, who usually took communion in his hands, stood in front of him and allowed Father Steve to place it on his tongue while gazing steadily into his eyes. He certainly did not get distracted by the faint swipe of tongue to his fingertips. It took every ounce of self control he had to tear his gaze away. He wondered if it was written all over his face, the thoughts that swirled and buzzed in the back of his mind. Bucky was unmoved; he walked away as if leaving a conversation with an old friend. He was stifling hot now, surely everyone could see the blush spreading over his face.

Father Phillip took over for the wine, and Steve had never been so happy to get away from church. He threw his robes off and hastily hung them back up, scribbled a hasty note to Father Bruce that he had gotten sick, and got into his car to take a long, long drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stickin' around to chapter two! Once again I'll apologize for butchering Catholicism. But whatever. Can you imagine Steve in that collar? That's the shit dreams are made of.
> 
> And of course, for the lovely Ballvvasher. <3


	3. The Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The comforting thing about confessional is that it's completely confidential.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. My goal is to finish this who ordeal by Saturday.

Steve had been driving in circles, really. For a split second he thought about driving to the city but decided to stay close to home in case Father Bruce tried to get a hold of him. He parked at a liquor store near the lake and sat for a moment. He considered going inside but squashed that idea as well. Surely _someone_ would recognize him. Suddenly his phone started buzzing in his pocket. It was Father Bruce, just as he suspected.

"Hello?" 

"Steven! How are you? I got your note. You did look pretty feverish today."

"I'm alright, I'm running to the store for some medicine." He replied, heart in his throat. Lying to Father Bruce really mad him feel sick. 

"Do you want to take a few days off? One of us could cover for you." He sounded worried. 

"No! No, I'll be alright, I already have Thursday off. I don't need anymore than that… I'll be fine. Really." He worried his lip between his teeth as he waited for Father Bruce's response.

"Alright," he said after a long pause, "Just don't overdo it. I'll pray for you. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to call myself or Phil."

"I will. Thank you."

He hung up and sunk into his seat, tore the white collar from around his throat and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He blew out a long breath before starting his car and driving down the block to the drugstore. As he browsed the aisles, he realized he didn't actually _need_ anything, but somehow buying a container of Tums made him feel a little better about lying to Bruce.   
He found himself staring at the next aisle over where a variety of condoms were on display. When was the last time he bought them? Probably in college. Or high school. Could it have really been eight years since-

He snapped out of his reverie, snatched a box in his size and went to the register to pay. As he handed over his money, he wondered over and over just why the hell he was buying them if he wasn't supposed to have premarital sex… and he wasn't getting married any time soon. Something was gnawing at the edge of his thoughts.  
Back at his house, he sat on the foot of his bed, idly reading the box as if he would _actually_ be using them soon. The whole situation was ridiculous. All it took was one hint of flirting from Bucky and his world turned upside down. Flopping backwards, he tossed the box next to the bed and groaned.

"Oh god, I'm _easy_ " he lamented to no one. He mustered up the energy to change into gym clothes and forced himself to go on a run. It probably wasn't the best choice for someone who was playing sick, but he was jittery and vulnerable and he hadn't ran in several days. A few miles passed before he felt any fatigue, but he pushed on. after the fourth mile, he stopped at a drinking fountain near the lake for a quick drink then headed back home, alternating sprinting and jogging with each block. After a quick cool down session, he showered and changed in pajamas and started making dinner. He ate in front of the TV, flipping between the news and a documentary about big cats in Africa. The rest of the night was quiet, and sleep came easily.

Monday and Tuesday passed peacefully. Wednesday would be blessedly short since youth group was cancelled due to mid terms and spring break. "Just survive confession" was his mantra. He had all of Thursday to himself. If only the time could move faster.  
Steve draped the purple stole around his neck and smoothed his hands over the front of his black button down. Just survive confession.

The hours passed uneventfully. People confessed the strangest things; hating their parents, stealing from coworkers, cheating on their diet (and spouses)… and only a handful of them sounded repentant. 

"I absolve you of your sins." 

Thinking of another woman during sex.

"I absolve you of your sins."

Skipping church for football.

"I absolve you of your sins." Steve looked at his watch. Almost done. He didn't know how much longer he could sit there. He plucked at his stole and shifted against the old creaky wood as another person entered the confessional.

"Forgive me, Father," said a voice that sent a wicked chill down his spine, "for I have sinned." 

_Bucky._

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted. "I've been having impure thoughts about someone for some time now," he murmured, face inches from the screen.

"It started two years ago when I met him…The first day we met, he put his hands on me…on my shoulders." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his tongue dart out to wet his lips. "I think about that a lot. I think about it when I jerk off. His hands are so strong. I want them… I want them all over me," he shifted closer, speaking softer, but headier still. "I want him to pull my hair while I suck his dick. Then I want him to push me into bed and fuck me 'til I cry. I want it so badly and I am not sorry at all."

Words failed him. The confessional had somehow turned into a sauna with the heat Steve was radiating. He swallowed and turned to look just as Bucky stood up, opened the door, exited, then slammed it shut. Steve let out a sigh and collapsed against the dark wood behind him. He was only allotted a moment of peace, and almost squawked when his door flung open. There stood Bucky, silhouetted by the sun through the stained glass.

"Bucky! What-" He stammered as he stepped inside and shut the door. Without hesitating, he slid into Steve's lap, straddling his hips despite the cramped quarters. Bucky grabbed his face and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Steve's hands were up in surprise, but after a moment, he ran them up Bucky's thighs and squeezed, pulling him tighter against himself, kissing back just as hard. Bucky gave one fluid roll of his hips and moaned softly, threading his fingers together on the back of his neck. Steve forced himself to pull away, but didn't let go. "Bucky, where did- _are there other people here?_ "

He shook his head, smiling like the devil himself had come to steal his soul.  
"I locked the door when I came in. I had big plans." He said softly. Steve huffed a mighty sigh and collapsed once more onto the old creaky wood behind him.

"We're going to hell." This earned him another smile. 

"We're not going anywhere. Except maybe my place." he deadpanned, and Steve actually _giggled._

"You're awfully presumptuous."

"You grabbed my ass." He reached between them and unceremoniously patted Steve's crotch. He could feel his face blossoming into every shade of red available. "And you have a huge boner. So, what time will you be over? Or can we do this right here?" he challenged, then leaned down for another kiss. Steve halted him with a hand on his chest.

"Noooo no no, we are not." Bucky pouted playfully. "But I'll be leaving in a little while. Maybe we could work something out." He winked at Bucky before dotting kisses up and down his throat. The brunette laughed airily. 

"My place at seven." He demanded, then pressed one final kiss to Steve's lips. "Be there or have blue balls for the next two years."

"Seven it is." Bucky beamed at his reply. They untangled themselves and Bucky left, giving him bedroom eyes before he shut Steve in with his thoughts.

He listed for his footsteps as they faded, for the squeal of the door as it open and shut. His heart rate evened out and he was presentable, so he left the stifling confines of the confession booth. He hung his stole in the back room, did a quick scan for signs of life from his colleagues then locked the church. On his way out, he double checked the church registry for Bucky's apartment number. This was happening. He was going over to Bucky's place to do… something.

He drove home a little too fast, tapping the steering wheel at every stop sign. _This was happening._   
He grabbed a quick snack of an apple and cheese and headed for the bathroom. After he showered and brushed his teeth, he changed into a simple pair of jeans and plain blue shirt, then zipped a grey hoodie over his chest. He padded around his room in his bare feet, to the chest of drawers for a pair of socks, then he snatched the unopened box of condoms off the floor. The socks went on, then the box was torn open and he slid a foil packet into his pocket. He looked at his watch. 6:40. 

He could be early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah sorry to leave y'all with blue balls but I wanted a whole chapter dedicated to sex and pillow talk. Which is coming soon.


	4. Sin

The drive to Bucky's apartment complex felt like it took all night. The sun was setting in his rearview mirror, and if he wasn't so distracted, he may have stopped to enjoy it. He pulled over and parallel parked on the side of the road. He took a deep breath, trying to quiet the fluttering in his chest. He got out of his car, locking it as he walked away, and did a quick survey of the numbers on the building. 402 was on the back side, top floor. He went up the concrete stairs slowly, running his fingers over the railing as he did. He reached the door and stared at the golden numbers. Underneath them was the name placards that read "Natasha and James" and there was a faded strip of tape that had "and Clint!" scrawled across it in permanent marker. Steve couldn't help but smile a little as he knocked hesitantly. 

The door swung open a few seconds later, and he was greeted by Bucky, who was naked save for the red boxer briefs that clung to him like a second skin. He stood patiently as Steve gave him a head to toe look over; he was tall, maybe an inch and a half shorter than Steve, not as broad but still covered in taught, lean muscle. His eyes finally made it back to his face. His long hair looked a little damp and there was a splash of color high on his cheekbones from being so exposed.

"Wow," Steve managed and finally stepped inside. Bucky didn't even try to hide the smug look on his face. He closed the door behind Steve and turned to face him.

"I wanted to make sure my intent was clear," he said as he unzipped Steve's sweatshirt and helped him out of it. He tossed it aside, and it landed over the back of the couch in the next room over. 

"I'm _pretty sure_ I understand," Steve said, slow and sultry as he slipped his hands around his hips and under the waistband of his boxers, squeezing the firm swell of flesh beneath the tight fabric. He jolted, surprised, and the blush on his face grew brighter. He snaked his arms around the older man's neck and pulled himself against him, standing on his tip-toes to reach up and plant a kiss on Steve's lips. His bare skin was warm through Steve's shirt, and he smelled faintly like body wash and shampoo. He wanted to bury his face in his bare shoulder and take in his wonderful presence, but Bucky pulled away and grabbed him by the wrist.

"Come with me," he murmured, "and take your shoes off. Nat will kill me if you track anything in." He hastily kicked his shoes off and scooted them away from the doorway, and was then escorted through the kitchen and into Bucky's room. Steve was surprised with how meticulously clean everything was; even Bucky's bed was made. His room was fairly plain. A flat eggshell color on the walls was standard in apartments, but he had a few pictures hung up and a desk in the corner. His bedspread was a plain navy, with a few grey pillows against the headboard. "You are entirely over dressed, Father Steve. Let's fix that." 

Steve didn't need to be told twice. He stripped his shirt over his head and before he had even dropped it, Bucky's hands and mouth were all over him, kissing across his collar bones and palming at the bare skin of his stomach. Steve ran his fingers through his damp hair and grabbed a handful at the back of his head to pull him in for a brief kiss. 

When they parted, Bucky reached back and put his hand over Steve's.

"Don't be afraid to pull…" he said, his voice husky and low, and he gave his hand a good yank. He whined as he dropped his hand onto the blonds hip. Steve pulled harder, forcing him back onto his tip-toes. "Oooh, that's… yeah that's good.. I-" Steve released him, and Bucky didn't try to hide his disappointment. "Oh come on, I can take it, and a lot more." 

"I know," he said, and turned the younger man away, towards the bed, and hooked his thumbs in the waist band of his boxer briefs. Slowly, he pulled them down over the swell of his backside, silently thanking god for his perfect, shapely ass. He dropped to his knees, planting kisses along his spine as he lowered. Bucky leaned forward, presenting himself to Father Steve while shifting his weight onto his hands on the bed. He slid the boxers to the floor, then ran his hands up the backs of his legs. He coaxed one of his legs onto the bed. 

"Wha, uh, _oh my god,_ ” he whined as Steve squeezed and parted him, then lapped his tongue over Bucky’s entrance. “Oh guhhh, ahh,” Steve fluttered his tongue a bit, then traced circles around and around, occasionally giving his ass a firm squeeze. Bucky was shaking, his arms braced on the bed, hopelessly hard and moaning at the onslaught from Steve. After a minute or so, he pulled back and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, one hand still on Bucky.

“Are you ready?”   
He nodded as he climbed the rest of the way onto the bed, then flopped onto his back, prone and panting. Steve stood up, then stripped his pants and boxers off in one motion. “In the drawer. Lube.” Bucky didn’t try to hide his stare.  
Steve obliged, fishing the bottle out of the bedside table and flipping it open with a slight click. He squeezed a bit onto his fingers then set it aside. Settling between the younger mans legs, Steve realized his hands were shaking, only slightly, as he slid two fingers into him. Bucky gasped and smiled wickedly, gripping the bedspread.  
“You said you could take ‘a lot more’, so…”  
“Uh huh, and you were listening,” Bucky said, then trailed off as Steve fingered him slowly. “And you’re torturing me.”  
“Patience.” Steve chastised, leaning in for a kiss. Bucky blindly groped around the bed, then found the lube. He poured it into his palm, then reached between them to grab Steves almost painful erection. He gasped as Bucky worked his hand around him, covering it with slick.   
“Now, please.” 

Steve feigned a sigh then sat back.  
“Turn over.”   
Bucky turned onto his stomach, then got onto his knees, bent forward with hand on the headboard. Steve grabbed his hip with one hand, and guided himself in with the other. He let out a shaky breath as he sunk into him. Hot tendrils of pleasure curled around his groin. Things would not last long at this rate.  
Bucky made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Steve pulled out slowly, then slid in again. The younger man’s grip on the headboard tightened.  
Steve chose a slow pace for a bit, trying to draw it out. He slid his fingers into Bucky’s hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling a bit. He nearly sobbed at the sensation, scalp prickling pleasantly. He pulled harder and Bucky choked out a moan.

Steve moved his hips faster now, then reached around to grip Bucky’s neglected erection. He yanked him into an upright position by his hair, pulling him back against his chest, lips next to his ear. Bucky let out a yelp, his hand snapping up to grip the arm that held his hair captive.  
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispered as he stroked him slowly and fucked into him harder, pulled his hair until Bucky half screamed a “yes”.  
He released his hair, then grabbed his hip as he moved with brutal, slapping thrusts. Bucky’s breath hitched as he arched his back and yelled. He spilled over Steve’s hand, moaning with each wave of pleasure. Steve was pushed over the edge and came with a cry, burying his face in Bucky’s hair and shoulder. Steve held him there for a moment as they both caught their breath, when he had a realization.  
“I should have worn a condom!”   
Bucky let out a laugh.   
“You’re fine,” he said and Steve pulled out slowly. They both laid down, heavy and lazy, basking in each others warmth.  
Steve turned towards him, studying the blissful look on his face. His eyes were closed, dark lashes nearly resting on flushed cheeks. He was beautiful, like Steve imagined an angel to look like. Not just any angel, he thought. Perhaps and archangel.  
He slid in closer, wrapping him in his arms. They lay in a comfortable silence, winding slowly towards sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy, I am two years late. Almost three.  
> I am SO SORRY. This is so rushed and un edited.  
> Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> I sent Ballvvasher an anonymous message asking for a prompt and boy did she deliver. She chose Priest!Steve and Rebelious Bucky Barnes.  
> I watched The Thornbirds as a kid and I think it made me have a weird priest kink. Again, I apologize if I offend anyone with my nonexistent knowledge of Catholicism... But then again you did click on this, so I don't know what to tell you.
> 
> Next chapters will be up as soon as I can finish them, and those will fulfill the mature rating, I promise. If not explicit.


End file.
